


Danger Zone

by storytellerof221b



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Rape Aftermath, References to Drugs, Serious Injuries, Vacation, wanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-29
Updated: 2019-07-29
Packaged: 2020-07-25 18:43:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20030560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/storytellerof221b/pseuds/storytellerof221b
Summary: Sherlock was chasing a criminal all by himself. He gets hurt and Greg takes him home. John is not amused. Things develop.





	1. Chapter One

Sherlock was panting. He leaned against the wall and closed his eyes for just a second. He couldn’t afford to stay here. The man who was after him had been very close just a minute ago. He wondered if he perhaps should stop smoking.  
Suddenly there was the cracking of a twig or something. Sherlock slanted his eyes and listened into the dark. Steps were coming closer.  
Sherlock knew he had to fight. He wasn’t able to outrun him and he had no gun or any other weapon at all. He had to rely on his fighting skills.  
Only why wasn’t John with him? Where was he anyway? Where was anyone anyway? He sighed and jumped in front of the killer.

***

They fought for more than ten minutes when Sherlock finally landed the last blow and the killer fell back on his head. He was sweaty and his shirt was torn. His knuckles were bloody and bruised, his nose was bleeding and his ribs were hurting.  
With shaking hands, he got his mobile and phoned Lestrade who asked if he needed an ambulance. He actually wanted to tell him he needed John but didn’t. He only asked for a ride home.  
When Lestrade arrived, he made him see the doctor anyway and had him checked over. Sherlock didn’t talk back and let him be treated. He waited for Greg’s speech. He knew he wouldn’t let him leave without it. He zoned out.  
“So, you know, one day we will be too late, Sherlock! What do you think will happen then? Do you ever think about what you are doing to people who still like you, love you even?” Sherlock woke and looked up at him.  
“Who would ever love me?” He snorted. He knew whom he wanted to love him but it was just a dream.  
“Your brother? Me? John? Mrs Hudson?” Lestrade was furious and kept shaking his head when Sherlock didn’t react.  
“I am taking you home now.” He grabbed his sleeve and pulled him along. Sherlock stopped.  
“Not in a police car!” He was only mumbling but Greg answered anyway.  
“Shut up, Sherlock! Or you will use the tube!” Sherlock sat in the back and Greg slammed the door. He threw his body on the seat and left with screeching tyres without fastening the seat-belt. Sherlock didn’t even smile like he normally would or asked for the siren to be switched on.  
“Oh, and be warned. I already phoned John. He knows what to expect and he isn’t very happy.” Sherlock stretched his fingers making his bones hurt. He didn’t reply though.  
Greg stopped right in front of 221B and opened the door for Sherlock. He swayed for a second and Greg reached out for him.  
“You OK?” He asked and looked up at him. He sounded a lot gentler by now. Sherlock just nodded and inhaled deeply.  
“Yes, I am fine.” He made two steps and turned around again. Greg was leaning against the car wanting him safe inside.  
“Thank you, Lestrade.” Greg smiled and waved good-bye. Sherlock sighed and opened the door. Mrs Hudson didn’t seem to be at home. And from upstairs he only heard John’s footsteps on the hardwood, quick and hard. He was angry. Sherlock swallowed.  
“Damn it all!” He muttered aggressively and climbed up the stairs. He pushed open the door and entered their flat. He shed his coat and hung it up by the door. His eyes were searching for John. He could smell tea. Hopefully there was enough tea. He slowly moved into the kitchen.  
“Sherlock!” Said one stopped dead. John was behind him. He hadn’t expected that. He closed his eyes.  
“Yes?” He replied but didn’t look at him. Instead he moved up to the counter to get at the cup of tea.  
“Look at me, please!” John said being very close. Sherlock could feel it. He took the mug and slowly turned around. He saw John’s eyes widen.  
“Bloody hell, Sherlock! What have you gotten into again?” He took the mug from him and gently led him over to the sofa.  
“Sit!” He ordered and Sherlock sat. He disinfected his hands and carefully touched his nose.  
“I have seen a doctor already. Greg made me. I …” Sherlock tried to stop him.  
“Shut the fuck up, Sherlock!” John interrupted and angrily looked at him. Sherlock swallowed. He didn't like this version of John a lot. He actually was rather a bit scared of him. That's why he didn't fight back, verbally or otherwise.  
John kept examining him. He looked at his knuckles and even lifted his shirt to get at his ribs.  
Sherlock felt his calloused fingertips moving over his sensitive skin. He was badly bruised and he saw John’s concerned and worried face.  
Finally, John got up and looked into his eyes.  
“I want you to rest. Get into bed and I will get you cool packs. I won’t get you a computer or mobile. Is that understood?” Sherlock just nodded. He slowly stood and swayed again. John caught him and moved him over. He made him sit on the bed and got him out of his shoes and socks and the rest of his clothes.  
Since he was a doctor, he wasn’t irritated by Sherlock’s erection at all. It was normal. Sherlock still was excited and high from both the chase and the fight. Everything was fine, just fine. It surely wasn’t because of him.  
Sherlock blushed almost crimson but neither lost a word about it. John covered him with the blanket and quickly stood back again.  
“I’ll get you the cool packs.” He cleared his throat and left the bedroom. His hands were shaking when he opened the fridge and collected them.  
“Bloody hell …” He muttered and pressed one cool pack on his groin. He hissed and jumped on the spot but his raging hard-on went poof. He closed his eyes and straightened his body.  
“Back into battle …” He wrapped the cool packs into towels and carried them back to Sherlock who hadn’t moved at all. He just looked at John.  
“Try to keep them as long as possible on the wounded parts, will you?” They locked eyes.  
“You might want to restrain me, John.” He looked rather smug saying so. He had thought about how to approach John and thought this had been a good idea. Obviously, it wasn’t.  
“What?” John asked and made the mistake to look up. Sherlock still had a blush over his prominent cheekbones. John had just gotten rid of his hard cock and now this coming from Sherlock.  
“You heard me very well.” Sherlock even grinned now. He started to have fun even though some doubts bubbled up by now. And John looked rather serious again and not at all amused.  
“You really don’t want that. Being medically restrained always comes with diapers, perhaps rods and force-feeding.” Now it was John who looked smug. His hands were on his hips and he looked into Sherlock’s eyes. Sherlock’s cock still lifted up the sheets. He pulled up his legs to hide that fact. He felt very, very hot.  
“So?” John asked. Sherlock just shook his head. This had fired backwards.  
“It was meant to be funny. You should know, I don’t excel in making jokes.” Sherlock cast his eyes but John smiled.  
“Never mind, Sherlock. Just cool your bruises. If you need anything, I’ll be right outside. Don’t hesitate to call out, please?” Sherlock shook his head.  
“No, I won’t. Thank you, John.” He moved on his back groaning. John kept watching him until he was settled and only then left his bedroom.  
Outside he sighed and shook his head. He collected the gloves and wipes and bloodied fabric. He had also taken Sherlock’s clothes from the bedroom and stuffed them into the hamper for the dry-cleaner. Then he checked on their supplies. There was enough for a nice and light dinner. And he would so make him eat. Until then he sat on the sofa and watched crap telly.

***

Sherlock desperately needed the loo. It was already half dark inside his room and he must have fallen asleep. The cool packs weren’t so cool anymore and he was also hungry. He chewed on his lips while carefully rolling to the edge of his bed. He quietly groaned to not alert John. He shuffled over the hardwood and held on to the wall. He reached the door the moment John opened it from the other side.  
“Careful, Sherlock.” He was by his side in a second and led him over.  
“Please, I can do it all by myself.” He looked at John and his cock already hurt. John was sceptic but let go of him.  
“Promise to not lock the door?” Sherlock nodded and John left. Sherlock exhaled a bit shakingly but managed to sit down. He closed his eyes and let go. It really had been urgent.  
He washed his hands and slumped into the living-room. John had his dressing-gown ready and socks, too. He was given tea, as well. Sherlock really was thankful and relaxed into the sofa. He felt the warm fabric beneath him, so John had probably slept.  
“Are you still angry with me?” He quietly asked looking into his tea. John looked over his shoulder.  
“No, I am not. And I wasn’t before. I was just upset. You are too careless. I don’t want to lose you. Again.” Their eyes met.  
“I had to confront him. I wasn’t able to outrun him or hide.” Sherlock tried to explain.  
“You should have waited for back-up, Sherlock. Why didn’t you call me?” John asked.  
“You were at work and I was told before very thorough and loudly to not disturb you there.” John rubbed his forehead.  
“I told you to not disturb me there for nothing, meaning handing over things like your mobile. But this was different.” John turned around now and came closer.  
“You really would have come to the rescue?” Sherlock asked and it made John grin a bit lopsidedly.  
“You don’t need to be rescued. I would have come for the usual assistance. How am I supposed to blog about it when I haven’t been there at the first place?” John asked coming even closer. Sherlock swallowed. He had no answer.  
“I am sorry for having upset you, John. I just meant not to bother you. I have done it wrong, obviously.” John sat down by his side and looked at him.  
“I can see that you tried. We are good. Don’t worry anymore. Just get well again.” His hand was on his arm and Sherlock felt his flesh burn.  
“I never know …” Sherlock only murmured the words and sank deeper into the sofa. John didn’t let go.  
“I am sorry, if I shouted at you or was mean. I didn’t want to make you feel worse. It’s bad enough now.”  
“No, John. Don’t apologize for pointing the way. And never do so after having taken care of me. I’d be lost without you.” Now he almost cried. John could see that and had to swallow.  
“Hey, no worries, OK?” He tenderly pulled a strand of his hair and put it back behind his ear. Sherlock held his breath but John just stood and walked back into the kitchen.  
“Are you up to some dinner? A little bit of rice and vegetables?” John asked over his shoulder.  
“Yes, I am actually hungry.” John smiled.  
“At first I would like to have another look at you. I will put the cool packs back into the freezer for after dinner, too.”  
“My ribs are hurting and so does my nose.” Sherlock slowly stood but John shook his head.  
“No, just stay there. I’ll be right with you. I will only heat up the rice and get my med-kit.” Sherlock sat back down again and watched John getting his supplies. He disinfected his hands and didn’t take gloves.  
“Interesting.” Sherlock thought. Then he hoped his cock would keep down. John very carefully started with his nose. He even applied some cream. Sherlock almost cross-eyed but let him. He was able to feel his body-heat.  
It became more complicated when he was examining his ribs, stroking over his sides. Sherlock hissed but John didn’t let go. He used more cream. Sherlock saw the sweat on John’s forehead and just knew he felt the same.  
“You will be very colourful for a few more days, but the pain should lessen by tomorrow evening.” Sherlock quickly closed his dressing-gown and fought his straining erection.  
“Thank you, John.” John smiled. It was rare that Sherlock thanked him.  
“Get into a pyjama and some top so we could have dinner. Please?” Sherlock slowly moved into his bedroom and changed. When he returned John had set up their kitchen-table. He had even placed a bottle of wine on it and two glasses. Sherlock raised his brow.  
“You are letting me drink?” John sighed.  
“Yes, because it will make you sleep combined with the meds, I will be giving you.” Sherlock grinned and fell on a chair. He poured the wine at once for both of them.  
“I also smell martini?” Sherlock’s nose was wrinkled and John very much loved that sight.  
“I know that you like it.” He shrugged and filled their plates.  
“But I haven’t deserved such a nice thing.” Sherlock murmured but quickly pulled his plate close.  
“No, actually you haven’t, but I think you need it.” Both men smiled now.  
“John, you are always, you always have been, you know what I mean …” Sherlock wasn’t able to construct a simple sentence.  
“Sherlock Holmes at a loss for words! Wonderful!” John grinned and started to eat. Sherlock pouted but only for a second. Then he grinned, too.  
He really was hungry and finished rather quickly. He tried to see into the pan from the table, if there was something left. John just stood and took his plate to bring him a refill. They shared the rest from the pan and went over to their sofa after they were done.  
“This was really good, John. Again, thanks. I feel very much molly-coddled.” Sherlock smiled rubbing over his non-existing but very colourful stomach. John looked up at him.  
“You are welcome. You know, I am glad when you are eating. Let’s finish the wine now.” Sherlock drank and afterwards started to fiddle with the blanket. He wanted to cover his legs with it.  
“Are your feet cold again?” John asked and Sherlock really was surprised that John had noticed that fact.  
“Yes, actually they are.” John took the blanket from him and pointed on his thighs.  
“Shove your feet under my legs. Come on up here.” Obviously, the wine had made him relax because normally this wouldn’t have happened.  
But Sherlock happily did as being offered and found John’s legs surprisingly warm. He sighed.  
“This is nice …” He leaned back and closed his eyes. They sat there for quite some time, drank some more and watched telly. Sherlock didn’t even comment on the series and shows John watched that evening. He was content sitting there with him and he really enjoyed it a lot.  
Sherlock must have dozed off because he woke again feeling John’s fingers moving over his feet. He looked at him, but he didn’t realise it at all. Only when Sherlock had to wiggle his toes because it became quite a bit ticklish, John looked up.  
“I am sorry, I …” He blushed a bit and Sherlock found it beautiful.  
“No, don’t be. It’s nice. I like it. I really do.” Sherlock assured him, wanting him to continue. And John really placed his hand back on one foot.  
“It’s just; you normally don’t like to be touched?” John looked up at him from under his lashes.  
“Wrong. I don’t like to be touched by just everyone. But this is you, John.” The colour didn’t leave John’s face.  
“Oh …” He cleared his throat which was such a typical John-noise. Sherlock had to smile.  
“When you put my hair behind my ear, it was so tender. You were. I thought about it when being in bed and I have to admit, that I can’t remember anyone doing it. Ever.” He shook his head very thoughtfully.  
“I really don’t know what to say. Only I feel sorry for you because you deserve everything. Even though sometimes you are a brat and I may yell at you and shove you around, but you are a good man. So just stop worrying, OK?”  
“John, I worry about us a lot.” Sherlock finally admitted it.  
“But why? There is nothing to worry about.” John replied.  
“Yes, there is. For me there is. Every time you get upset because I have done something a bit not good, I am scared you might finally have enough and go away.” John looked a bit shocked.  
“But I won’t! I like it here. I like you …” He quickly bit his lip, but it was too late. Sherlock looked up.  
“You like me?” He quietly asked.  
“Yes, I do. Of course, I like you, Sherlock. I wouldn’t have moved in with you, if I wouldn’t, would I? You have saved my life!” They stared into each other’s eyes.  
“When did I do that? I can’t remember. But I know for sure, that you have saved mine multiple times.”  
“You never saw, did you? When we first met, back in the lab with Mike, I was very depressed. I lived in a shaggy bedsit, I had no money and I was hungry. I limped and my hand was shaking. I had no chances of finding a job as a doctor again. I had nightmares about the war. I … Anyway, everything was fucked up.” He made a break and swallowed. Sherlock didn’t say a word, but kept looking at him.  
“And then you happened. It felt like you were a saviour from heaven, coming out of the blue. You were looking for a flat-share and you offered it to me. I hardly could believe it. Why me? Why would you even look at me? But you did and here I am. If you hadn’t found me, I possibly would have pulled the trigger any time soon.”  
A horrible noise erupted out of Sherlock and he somehow got up on his knees. He clumsily moved over to John and pulled him into his arms.  
“Don’t say such horrible things!” He sobbed out the words. John was too surprised to do anything. So, he was just being held and pressed against Sherlock’s body.  
But Sherlock wouldn’t stop and John started to carefully rub his body wherever he could due to his arms being pressed to his sides.  
“Stop crying, please? There is no reason at all.” He finally was able to push him off and grabbed the box with Kleenex.  
“Here, blow your nose and make yourself presentable again.” Sherlock took the Kleenex and rubbed over his red rimmed eyes.  
“It was such a horrible thing to say. I mean, I am capable of imagining why you would have done so. I mean, I didn’t over-dose for nothing.” He shrugged and dabbed his eyes with a fresh Kleenex. John just stilled.  
“What?” He asked staring at Sherlock.  
“I said, I didn’t over-dose for nothing.” Then their eyes met.  
“What happened?” John demanded to know. Sherlock brought some distance up again.  
“What do you mean? Before or after? The reason or the result?” He sounded rather untouched.  
“Everything?” John was very much touched by this revealing.  
“Firstly, I was bored. I wasn’t able to stop the thoughts whirling through my brain. It never stopped. I never was able to stop thinking, observing, analysing. I found that a certain solution of cocaine helped a lot. One time I used a bit too much. But I can tell you, John, the result was formidable.” He smiled.  
“We are a bunch of fucked-up idiots. You over-dosed and I wanted to use my gun.” Now John grinned and it made Sherlock grin in return.  
“I wonder, if you …” John didn’t ask the question and Sherlock was just shaking his head.  
“I have a survival-kit hidden in this flat, I admit that. Only to know that it is here, that I could, is enough sometimes.”  
“Did you have no help? Was no one there with you? How did you get clean?” John was curious.  
“I had help. My brother always took good care of me and it’s not his fault that I failed. He granted me a place for rehab and made me detox properly. Not only once but four times he got me in and paid for it. Afterwards he got me a job at Scotland Yard. That’s why I know Lestrade. He knows everything.”  
“He never said …” John shook his head and his opinion about Greg climbed even higher than before.  
“No, he never told anyone.” Sherlock sighed and looked at John.  
“So, what now?” He quietly asked making John look at him.  
“What now? Nothing. We talked and it’s all fine.” Sherlock slumped into the sofa and relaxed.


	2. Chapter Two

For several days they lived their daily routine. John was still a bit shocked about Sherlock’s drug abuse. Sherlock was also shocked about what John had revealed. But John had also told him that he liked him and for Sherlock that was enough for now.  
He again had started making plans for getting closer to John. By now he knew he was a care-taker. He would also protect him and follow him everywhere. Plus, he knew for sure that John liked him.  
Sometimes it even was a bit too much, for instance when John constantly insisted on eating more or sleeping regularly. But Sherlock knew John wasn’t trying to order him around, he was just worried about him. So mostly he took the offered food or threw his lithe body on the sofa to rest a bit.  
One time when he was sleeping on the sofa, John kept watching him. He actually sat on the coffee-table and looked at him.  
“God, he is so adorable. He is actually drooling on the sofa. I could take a picture.” John smiled and rested his head in his open palms. And he kept staring.  
He kept staring until he realised, he stared right into Sherlock’s eyes. He straightened up and blushed a deep shade of red.  
“I am sorry …” He quickly stood and cast his eyes. This was so embarrassing.  
“What’s wrong?” Sherlock asked with a sleepy voice. His hair was tousled and his eyes were still a bit unfocused.  
“Nothing. I was just, never mind.” John shook his head.  
“Why were you looking at me? Was I embarrassing?” Sherlock asked sitting up rather slowly. John smiled.  
“No, you weren’t. You were resting just so peacefully. Normally you twitch and move, you see?”  
“Are you telling me, you were watching me sleep before?” Sherlock smiled when John blushed some more.  
“Please stop interrogating me, Sherlock.” He walked into the kitchen to put the kettle on. He made tea for Sherlock, too.  
“Do we have cookies?” He asked and John happily provided cookies he would eat. He had actually baked them together with Mrs Hudson. He brought the plate over and set it on the table. Sherlock looked at them.  
“These are self-made.” John shrugged.  
“Yes? They are not poisonous.” Sherlock laughed out loud.  
“No, of course not. You made them and I didn’t.” Now John grinned, too. Sherlock snatched one and devoured it quickly. And then another one before he even touched the tea. John smiled.  
“They are good!” Some crumbles spilt on his t-shirt and the hardwood, but John was just happy Sherlock ate and liked it.  
“Thank you.” He sat down with his tea, too. Sherlock ate all the cookies, but John didn’t mind. Afterwards he went into the bath and showered. John wondered, if he was up to something, but didn’t ask. But when he came out, he had just changed into something comfier; a warmer pair of pyjamas and a long-sleeved t-shirt.  
“It seems your cookies made me hungry. You need to cook now.” He demanded standing in front of John’s armchair and looking over the edge of his newspaper.  
“Excuse me?” John looked up.  
“I said, you need to cook now, John.” Sherlock repeated his statement from before. John placed the paper down.  
“You know, I am glad you want to eat, but right now you sound a bit impolite and rude.” Their eyes met and Sherlock’s slanted just a little bit.  
“Please, please, please, John. Cook for me? Pretty please?” And he fell on his knees right between John’s legs. His eyes were wide open and his hands were raised as if praying. John stared at him and strategically placed the newspaper on his lap. Then he cleared his throat.  
“Well, this is something new and I like it. I wish, I had a video.” He tilted his head and smiled at Sherlock who stayed where he was. But then he stood and realised a second too late that his groin was right in front of Sherlock’s face who didn’t move a bit.  
Carefully John looked down and found Sherlock staring straight ahead. And then he licked his lips, very slowly. John felt how his blood rushed down. He cleared his throat.  
“What would you like?” Again, he closed his eyes. Bloody hell. What kind of question was that?  
“I trust you with your choice.” Sherlock answered and it was just as weird as John’s question had been. Was it intentional? Was Sherlock playing? John had no idea. He looked back at him and saw him still on his knees. He looked very thoughtful.  
God, how John loved the sight. But this was Sherlock bloody Holmes, for God’s sake!  
Finally, Sherlock got up and murmured something about some wine. He got a bottle from wherever it had been and placed two glasses on the counter, too. He once blew into them to get rid of the dust and John just shook his head. It plopped rather loud and then Sherlock poured the wine.  
John just started on dinner and sipped the wine. It was strong and dark red. He liked it.  
“What’s up, doc?” Sherlock asked leaning against the fridge. John looked up and grinned. He liked this version of Sherlock. It was domestic Sherlock.  
“Spaghetti Bolognese. You like?” He asked and Sherlock crept closer.  
“You know I do, John.” He tried to look into the pot, but John put a lid on top.  
“It’s not ready yet. You may try later.” Sherlock hummed.  
“What’s up for dessert?” Sherlock asked and John just raised a brow.  
“An apple?” He pointed at their fruit-bowl and Sherlock pulled a face. He muttered something nasty and went over to the sofa. John smiled and made a fruit salad with cream and chocolate splinters on top. He didn’t even ask Sherlock to set up the table. He saw him sulking on the sofa and he had finished the wine already. He added some spices into the sauce and called out:  
“Would you like to try now?” Sherlock was up on his legs very quickly again. John handed him a teaspoon and Sherlock took a mouthful. He hummed and licked his lips.  
“Perfect. You are the best cook ever!” He threw the spoon into the sink and poured more wine.  
John enjoyed all this quite a lot. Plus, he couldn’t get rid of the image of Sherlock kneeling on the hardwood. He wondered, if Sherlock had any idea what this did to him. And if he had, why was he doing it?  
John smiled and thought about it. That’s why he didn’t notice Sherlock creeping up behind him and back into the kitchen to steal from the dessert. Only when he turned around, he found him with his finger in the cream.  
“Sherlock!” John chided and shook his head. Sherlock swallowed and carefully placed the bowl back.  
“I am sorry …” He said rather quietly.  
“No, you are not but, I don’t mind. I am glad, you like it and are eating. I don’t mind, what you are eating first as long as you are eating.” Sherlock’s whole answer was to pour more wine and slowly John began to feel it. He shed his jumper.  
He didn’t see Sherlock look at him when he walked into the living-room, straightening his arms over his head and pulled the darn thing off of his wonderful body. Sherlock licked his lips. John’s muscles were nice to look at as was his still tanned skin. When he stretched out his arms his t-shirt moved up, too, and revealed a line of tanned skin between his trousers and the hem of his t-shirt. Sherlock tilted his head and desperately wanted to touch.  
He sighed very quietly, but this was good. Part one of his plan had worked out.  
John threw his jumper on his armchair. He felt a bit warm after the wine, but he didn’t mind at all. This was one of the nicest days and evenings he had had with Sherlock for a very long time.  
He smiled about his thoughts and turned around to join Sherlock again. He caught him again with the spoon stuck between his lips and he raised a brow.  
“Sherlock!” He shook his head and pulled the spoon from between his plush lips. It made a sucking noise and John swallowed. The second spoon got thrown into the sink.  
“It’s delicious! I’ll give you a star for your cooking skills!” Sherlock grinned. John grinned, too, because Sherlock had tomato spots on his cheekbone. He took a kitchen-towel and poured some water over it.  
“Come here, please. You need to be cleaned up, mate.” Sherlock came closer and lowered his head to make it easier for John. John wiped slowly and carefully over his cheekbone. Sherlock pressed into his hand like a cat would. John smiled again. Sherlock almost cross-eyed.  
“Is there more? In my hair?” He sounded shocked.  
“No, your hair is just fine. Beautiful as always.” Quickly John turned around. What was he saying? Damn it!  
Sherlock stared at his broad back. What was he saying? He shook his head and gingerly touched his cheekbone.  
“Thank you.” It was everything, he could think of to say. And he poured more wine. He looked at the almost empty bottle and retrieved a new one. John looked over his shoulder.  
“I had no idea; we had all this wine. Where does it come from?” John asked rather curiously.  
“Well, I took it from Mycroft after having done some horrid legwork for him. I bet, he never noticed because entering his wine-cellar means using his legs, too. Normally he sends someone downstairs to get him a bottle and they don’t care about the various stuff which is down there and would never notice, if some are missing.” He snorted. John grinned.  
“It’s excellent and I like it a lot. I will thank him later.” Sherlock looked up.  
“No, you won’t.” John raised a brow.  
“Why not? We are drinking his wine.” He shrugged.  
“I stole it. You can’t tell him.” John closed his eyes.  
“I see. Well. I won’t tell him then.” Sherlock looked pleased. Finally, it was time and John filled the bowls. Sherlock expectantly sat at the table and waited to be served. John didn’t comment anymore. Instead he brought everything over and finally sat down, too.  
Sherlock devoured two helpings and looked very sated and pleased. John was happy. This was the home he had hoped for.  
Suddenly Sherlock grabbed his wrist and pulled him over to the sofa. He made him sit and got a bottle out of nothing.  
“I stole a Grappa, too.” The bottle was already opened and he handed it over to John who just took it without asking. He drank directly from the bottle and it was great stuff, too. He hummed and licked his lips.  
“This is good, you need to obtain more.” But he grinned saying so.  
“You could be my company next time. It’s safer.” He grinned, too, and drank. Later they watched telly and Sherlock shouted abuse both at the game-show host and his candidates. John had a good time.  
Only when it became rather quiet by his side and Sherlock’s body slowly started to move and end on his shoulder, he realised how late it was. Then he also started to snore.  
“Sherlock, wake up. You need to go to bed. You can’t sleep on the sofa.” Sherlock didn’t move. John poked him and still got no reaction.  
John stood and pulled him up and over his shoulder. His legs dangled in front of John. His arse was pressed against his head and his hands and fingers kept moving over his behind.  
John became hard and swore quietly while carrying his drunken flatmate into his bedroom. He carefully let him roll over his shoulder stabilising his back with his palm and pulled up his blanket. Whatever was on Sherlock’s bed rolled off of it and fell on the hardwood. John shoved it to the side and saw clothes, folders, books and some more indescribable stuff. How could he sleep in here?  
Sherlock murmured in his drunken state and rolled on his side. He almost disappeared beneath the blanket and his arm was moved under the pillow. John brought him two paracetamols and a glass of water and placed it on his nightstand. He thought again and also placed a bucket by his bed.  
He couldn’t resist and stayed put for a few minutes. He just looked at his sleeping form. He was drooling again and John grinned. He closed the door and quickly went through his bathroom-routine. He went upstairs but left his door open just in case. He switched off the light and sighed.  
This had been such a nice evening. Sherlock had been good company and he had told him many things about his past. They had wine and dinner together and John had loved it. It also seemed, that Sherlock had liked it, too. Perhaps John could hope for more in the future. He smiled into the dark.

***

The next morning Sherlock just slowly woke. His eyes were crusty, but he didn’t feel sick. He found the water and the pills and smiled. John. He drank the water but left the meds. Then he rolled out of bed and his foot stuck inside the bucket. He swore and hopped on the spot. Then he took the bucket and swayed outside and into the living-room.  
John wasn’t up yet, but the commotion had woken him. Sherlock was able to hear him upstairs and soon enough he came trotting downstairs. Their eyes met and both men smiled.  
“Are you alright, Sherlock?” John asked looking a bit worried and Sherlock again was sure only John would have asked that. Everyone else would have complained about having been woken so rudely.  
“Yes, I wasn’t really awake and ended up in the bucket. It was unused, fortunately.” John grinned.  
“Oh, such a shame I have missed that!” He came closer and looked him over.  
“Are you feeling well? I mean, you were rather drunk last night.” Sherlock blushed.  
“I apologise for the inconvenience. I can’t even remember how I got into my bed.” John cleared his throat.  
“Well, I put you in there.” He shrugged and looked into his eyes.  
“If I have overstepped my boundaries, it’s my turn to say sorry now.” But Sherlock shook his head.  
“No, not at all. It’s all fine.” They looked at each other until Sherlock dared asking.  
“Did you carry me?” He almost looked shocked now.  
“Not bridal style, no. I threw you over my shoulder and dropped you. I also took some stuff off your bed because it was full of, well, stuff.”  
“Thank you, John. And I do really mean it. I know, I should make you a proper breakfast, but you know, I can’t. But I will go downstairs and buy loads of breakfast stuff in the café.”  
“You really don’t have to.” John shook his head even though he liked the idea.  
“You like it.” Sherlock smiled and took his wallet.  
“Sherlock, you are in your dressing-gown!” But Sherlock was already on his way downstairs and John just shrugged it off. The people from the café were used to him and so was Mrs Hudson.  
Instead of being worried about his flatmate’s appearance, he brewed coffee and tea. He also poured juice. Why did they have juice? He didn’t buy it. He wondered, if it was meant for an experiment. He should maybe ask before drinking.  
Sherlock returned with loads of packed things in several bags. He looked rather excited.  
“They had everything we need, John. Look? Scrambled eggs, bacon, tomatoes, cheese, toast, butter …”  
“Yes, I can see that. Come here. Let’s arrange everything.” Sherlock just put everything very unorderly on the table and turned away soon enough. John arranged it neatly afterwards.  
“Did you drink from that bottle, John?” Suddenly there was Sherlock holding up the juice and his glass.  
“No, not yet. Why?” Sherlock quickly poured it away.  
“It’s not really juice anymore. Please don’t ask.” John didn’t. Instead he sat down and looked up.  
“Sit with me, please? You got everything for us, so please join me now.” Sherlock looked at everything and then plonked on his chair.  
“I am not really hungry. You fed me a lot yesterday. I wanted you to have a nice breakfast as I know you like it.” John really was surprised.  
“That’s really nice, Sherlock. Thanks, mate.”  
“I want you to feel good and make you a home.” Sherlock said quietly. Finally, John understood.  
“I won’t leave you because you were drunk, Sherlock. Stop worrying!” John buttered more toast.  
“It’s just; I know I am not easy to live with. I never cared so much about anyone. You have been so nice to me from the beginning and I don’t want to spoil this.”  
“Listen, sometimes I am yelling at you or banging the door and storm off. But it doesn’t mean giving up. I will always come back. Always.” He tried to look into his eyes and very carefully Sherlock looked up.  
“A cold shower might help?” Sherlock suggested with a smile on his face and John grinned.  
“Or a proper spanking.” He said that without thinking and Sherlock furiously blushed. At once there were pictures forming inside his head and sweat broke out all over his body. He swallowed and coughed. Quickly he took some tea and burnt his tongue.  
In the meantime, John enjoyed the little film that was playing inside his head featuring Sherlock in various positions. It took him some time until he realised that he wasn’t reacting. He focused back on him.  
“Jesus, you are as pale as a ghost. Are you sick?” John asked being worried all over again.  
“No, I am fine. It’s just, what you’ve just said, it was …” John reached over the table.  
“I wasn’t serious, Sherlock. I would never hurt you.” He held his hand and his fingers were around Sherlock’s thin wrist. Sherlock didn’t pull back. Instead he closed his eyes and wished for a bit more pressure, so he could feel him.  
John looked at him and noticed very well what he wanted. He tightened his grip and heard his sigh. He smiled.  
“Did someone hurt you in the past?” John asked out of the blue because he wanted to know what he should avoid. Perhaps then it would be possible to have a closer relationship or a relationship at all.  
“Of course, I was hurt in the past. It started at school, everyone hated me. I got called into the headmaster’s office and was introduced to Mr Cane rather early. I was bullied by classmates and older pupils. At university it was the same.” Sherlock shrugged and then just continued when John just looked shocked.  
“I have scars because I never sought help. Haven’t you seen by now?”  
“No, I haven’t.” John sounded very, very angry and it made Sherlock open his eyes again.  
“You are angry, possibly disgusted. I’ll shut up now.” Sherlock tried to pull back but John held on.  
“Again, no, I am not. It’s just, I wonder if those people are still alive? I’d like to kick their posh asses around a bit.” Sherlock just stared and swallowed.  
“I wish, you had been there with me.” He said that very quietly after a few seconds.  
“So do I.” Now Sherlock tightened his grip around John’s smaller hand.  
“You are protecting me now and I appreciate it.”


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock does not want to anger John and he tries his very best to be Mr Nice guy.

Some days passed by and nothing happened. Sherlock became bored again and John tried to keep him busy. Only the lazy sod didn’t even get up to meet Lestrade for cold cases. Instead John went to see Greg and was handed a bunch of old folders he picked up after a long shift.  
Greg just placed a pint in front of him.  
“Thanks, mate.” John relaxed a little bit.  
“You do know, you still have some blood on your face?” John at once reached for a Kleenex in his bag.  
“God, no, I don’t. Thanks, Greg. It was a hellish day. Why didn’t his Excellency pick these up himself? He has nothing on!” Greg grinned.  
“You know him, don’t you? He can’t be bothered to leave his flat for cold cases.” John sighed.  
“I bet, he didn’t even shower or got up at all. And if Mrs Hudson hadn’t come up, he had not eaten, as well.”  
“Probably, yes. You should bring take-away, too.” John groaned and picked up his pint.  
“Yes, later. Now I am enjoying my pint and your company.” They clinked glasses. Suddenly John felt being watched by Greg rather intensely.  
“What?” He raised a brow.  
“I just wonder how you are coping living with him.” John shrugged.  
“Rather fine, I think. He is insufferable sometimes, but all in all not too bad.” John smiled.  
“Yes, I know. Back when he was living with me, he was too lazy to pick up the wet towels or clean up his dishes.”  
“But still you let him stay.” Both men drank more.  
“Yes, because he is a good man and I like him. He deserves better and I wanted, still want, to help him.”  
“His care-taking abilities concerning himself aren’t very good.” John added.  
“No, you are right, but now you are there.” John sighed.  
“Yes, I am the doctor in the house and I have seen a lot already.” Greg grinned.  
“You are much more than just the doctor in the house, John.” Now their eyes met again.  
“What do you mean?” He asked.  
“He has changed so much since you came into the mix. His behaviour on my crime scenes is much better than before.”  
“I am not his nanny!” John raised a brow and finished his beer.  
“You are, mate. And believe me, I wish someone would look at me like he does look at you.” Now John just stared.  
“What?” He had no idea what Lestrade was talking about.  
“Don’t tell me you don’t see!”  
“I obviously don’t. Enlighten me, Greg, please!” But at first Lestrade brought fresh pints.  
“I know Sherlock for a long time. To my knowledge he never had a boy-friend or a girl-friend. He barely has any friends. In theory he knows how everything works, but real life?” He shook his head.  
“Are you telling me he is a bloody virgin?” Greg just shrugged.  
“But he …” John stopped talking and drank half of his glass thinking about the kneeling image of Sherlock.  
“But he what?” Greg curiously asked.  
“His behaviour towards me, it’s loaded with hormones.” Greg raised a brow.  
“What did he do?” Greg was curious.  
“I believe, he provokes accidents, so I would take care of him and touch him during the process. He told me, he didn’t like to be touched, but that I was different. And once he knelt in front of me and stared at my you know what.”  
“Bloody hell!” Greg exclaimed.  
“Yes! Nothing happened, but if I would have done something, he would have followed.”  
“Would you like to be with him?” Greg asked.  
“God, yes!” It came out at once and Greg grinned.  
“We need to celebrate!” He stood and got more beer and some food. John just looked at him.  
“Why don’t you say something, John? That’s great news! We need a plan!” Greg was very excited.  
“What kind of plan? What are you talking about?” John finally dared asking.  
“A plan for getting involved with Sherlock!” Greg rubbed his hands. John covered his face and groaned.

***

Sherlock sat in his brother’s living-room and stared into the fire. He wasn’t invited, he had just invaded. But he had no one else to talk to. And he needed to talk about John.  
“What are you doing here, brother-dearest?” Mycroft sounded exhausted when seeing Sherlock drinking his most expensive whiskey. Sherlock turned and stood. He placed the tumbler on the little table by his side and looked at him.  
“I need to talk to you about John. Please?” Mycroft just stared at him. Sherlock wondered what to do now.  
“I am sorry for stealing your wine and drinking from your booze. I will replace it.” Now Mycroft just shook his head.  
“Oh, shut up. I knew for a long time and I don’t mind. Sit down again and talk.” Sherlock was surprised, he had to admit it.  
“Certain things have happened and the overall situation is difficult.” Sherlock started and it wasn’t easy.  
“Why don’t you talk to DI Lestrade about this?” Mycroft wanted to know and poured a drink.  
“Because John is talking to him already. It’s just not possible!” Mycroft nodded.  
“I see. Well, what do you want?”  
“Why are you making me say it?” Sherlock whined.  
“You need to express your feelings, Sherlock. Please do continue.” He leaned back into his armchair.  
“I want John. I want to be with John. Only his simple touches when nursing me or holding me back from something a bit not good, make me feel hot. I already got hard several times in his company. It’s rather embarrassing.”  
“It’s rather healthy. Dr Watson is a very attractive man.” Sherlock stared at Mycroft.  
“Excuse me? Don’t you dare!” Mycroft snorted.  
“Please, you know where my intentions are, brother-mine!”  
“I have been observing something, but wasn’t really sure, since you are the spy-master.” Mycroft tilted his head.  
“Oh, don’t be ridiculous!” But he smiled just a little bit.  
“Don’t you have any plans regarding our favourite DI?” Sherlock asked and Mycroft carefully shrugged.  
“Don’t distract, brother-mine, and let’s concentrate on the good doctor again.”  
“Very well, what am I supposed to do? I can’t possibly jump him, can I?” Sherlock sipped his drink.  
“No, he would be too shocked to react properly.” Mycroft shook his head.  
“You could do what normal people would.” Sherlock looked clueless.  
“Such as?” He asked looking puzzled.  
“Court him, invite him for dinner or buy him stupid little presents. I bet; he’d like that.” Mycroft smirked.  
“I think, you are right. The correct term is “to woo someone”, am I correct?” Sherlock sounded thoughtful.  
“I believe it is.” Sherlock lifted his tumbler and Mycroft topped it again. They sat together in silence for several minutes until they had finished their drinks. Only then Sherlock stood.  
“Thank you, Myc. I mean it.” Mycroft stood, too.  
“You should know, I am happy that you have finally found someone. I also believe, that Dr Watson is very interested in you, Sherlock, and will happily accept your courting advances.” Sherlock smiled and picked up his coat from a nearby armchair. He slung his scarf around his neck and took his gloves.  
“Bye-bye, brother-dearest.” A bottle stuck inside his coat pocket, but Mycroft just let him go.

***

“What do you suggest?” John asked and stuffed his mouth full with chips. Greg grinned happily.  
“I think, you should show him what he misses, make him jealous.” Greg suggested.  
“That’s wicked!” John took more chips.  
“It will wake him up and make him aware of his feelings towards you.” John hummed.  
“Perhaps I should pamper him?” John suggested.  
“You should woo him, John. Dress up and take him out for dinner.” Greg said.  
“He rarely eats, Greg.” John looked unhappy now. Classical wooing wouldn’t work with Sherlock.  
“Then do something soppy!” Greg leaned back and broadly grinned.  
“Like what? Take him to Hampstead Heath and braid flowers into his hair?” John sounded whiny now and Greg outright laughed.  
“No, but take him to the sea or ride the London Eye with him. Something like that.”  
“It will be waste of time for him.” John said and raised a brow.  
“Bloody hell, John, you are his friend, his best friend. You must know what he likes. You do live with the man!”  
“Yes, I do, don’t I? But what do I know about him except that he likes experiments, spends a lot of time in the morgue and is a rude bastard! I know, what he doesn’t like such as eating or sleeping. I never heard him talk about a vacation or any free time at all.” Greg’s eyes widened.  
“But that’s the idea! Take him for a vacation! Kidnap him! Make him enjoy the time off!” Greg rubbed his hands.  
“Perhaps I could book us into one of these trendy crime dinners?” John wondered and Greg laughed out loud.  
“They’ll throw him out after a few minutes! It will be hilarious!” John’s head sunk on his folded hands on the table.  
“You are not helping!” He murmured into nothing.  
“But I am!” Greg said and got up to buy new beer.

***

John got back home rather late and a bit tipsy. He returned into a cold and empty flat. Sherlock wasn’t home. John sighed and brewed tea. Then he built a fire and sat in his armchair.  
Suddenly Sherlock dashed inside.  
“Did you bring my cold cases? John?” He flung himself into his armchair and looked at John who lazily opened his eyes.  
“Yes, on the counter.” He made a waving gesture, but didn’t get up.  
“Where is my tea?” Sherlock asked making John sigh.  
“How am I supposed to know when you get back? Make your own tea.” Sherlock pouted but stood. He dropped his coat on the hardwood and slumped over into the kitchen. When he coat fell down, it made a strange noise like something hard hit the wood.  
“Oh!” Sherlock was back in an instant and retrieved the bottle.  
“Good, it ‘s not broken! Look, John, I brought another one!” He placed it on the counter. John looked up.  
“So, you have been seeing your brother and stole another bottle of alcohol?” Sherlock proudly nodded.  
“Yes, I did. I was bored. You weren’t here and didn’t bring me cold cases.”  
“I told you, I had to work and would meet Greg later in the pub. If you would have bothered to come and meet us there, you could have taken the folders back home way sooner. You were invited, remember?”  
“I don’t do pubs, John. It’s too tedious, too pedestrian.” He snatched the pile of folders and happily carried them into his bedroom. He didn’t come back out again.  
John groaned and finished his tea. He went through his bathroom-routine and brushed his teeth very thorough. He slumped upstairs and went straight into bed. He dreamed of a beautiful beach, his feet on the warm and palm-trees everywhere. In the middle of everything sat Sherlock building a mind-palace out of sand.

***

Sherlock was only pissed because John hadn’t provided the files he wanted. Plus, he didn’t bring him tea. He heard him go to bed and wasn’t able to concentrate on the bloody cold cases.  
Probably he should have been nicer to John, but now it was too late. He just wasn’t good with these things. He sighed and pushed the folders on the ground. He rolled on his side, but got up again soon and changed into pyjamas and a tee. He used the bath, as well. Only then he buried his body underneath his blanket and pressed the side of his head into his soft and fluffy pillow.  
He was wide awake and stared into his dark bedroom. What was he supposed to do regarding John? He wanted John; that much he knew. Now he needed to become a specialist in dating activities. He needed to google a lot of things. He relied on google. Google was supposed to know everything.  
He felt much better and sat up again. He took his laptop and leaned against the headrest. An hour later he was just as clueless as before and quietly swore.  
Perhaps he should use his own brain instead of google? He chewed his lips.  
Finally, he decided to start with something simple. He would take John out for dinner. Pleased with himself he closed the lid of his computer.  
He knew John liked Angelo’s. But perhaps it should be something better, something new? But not too fancy or posh. John must feel good in there. Sherlock could act around it, but it was all for John.  
Sherlock lay awake for the rest of the night.

***

The next day found Sherlock and John on their way to Scotland Yard. They had to leave the cab earlier due to a traffic accident. Sherlock was angry because this caused a delay, but it couldn’t be helped.  
“Don’t look like that, Sherlock. It’s nice outside and only a short distance to walk. Come on!” John pulled at his sleeve and smiled up at him. Sherlock couldn’t but smile back and follow him. He kept watching John and observing what he looked at for longer. He saw him staring at a holiday display in a travel-agency. It had pictures with a sunny beach and people in the sea. Sherlock sighed. What a horrid thing to do. But obviously John liked it. He looked hopeful as if he wanted to be there.  
And an idea was born. Sherlock would take John on a holiday. But how to organise it? Sherlock never had been on holiday. However, was he supposed to arrange such a thing? However, should he know the best place to stay at, that wouldn’t intimidate John such as Club Med or something? He worried his lips and wondered, if he could hire Anthea for that.  
“Sherlock? Sherlock!” His head shot to the side. They had arrived at the Yard. In fact, they were already inside and in front of the elevators.  
“Yes? John, what is it?” Sherlock asked. John shook his head.  
“I just wanted to ask the same. You have been miles away. What were you thinking of?” Sherlock didn’t answer and John didn’t really expect an answer.  
While John talked to Lestrade and discussed some tedious sports game, Sherlock wondered whom he could ask about destinations. He had once heard about people going to Spain for a holiday, but he knew none. Of course, he didn’t.  
But Lestrade was always so nicely tanned. Was he going to Spain on vacation? He could try and ask him, but he would probably laugh at him. Sherlock sighed and stared at the evidence bags laid out in front of him. He actually saw nothing.  
“When will you start the deduction thing, freak?” Donovan suddenly asked and Sherlock’s head shot up.  
“What?” He looked at her as if she was an alien from outer space. He had no idea what he was looking at. Naturally he wouldn’t ever admit that. So, he quickly focused back on the case. It took him a mere ten minutes until he told her who the abuser was and added a nice and loud fuck off at the end of his deductions.  
John paled and then excused both of them quickly. He pulled Sherlock along and outside while Greg rubbed his neck and turned to Donovan who was furious.  
Outside John faced Sherlock.  
“What is wrong with you? Are you feeling quite well?” John asked looking him up and down and feeling for his pulse. It was actually racing when John placed his warm and calloused fingers on Sherlock’s pulse point and his thin wrist.  
“She was annoying me. I solved their crime, again. Why would I be polite to her? She keeps calling me freak and no one cares about that!” Sherlock spat it out.  
“I care.” John just said and let go of him. They looked at each other.  
“I know.” Sherlock said and both men smiled.  
“Let’s have something sweet.” John suggested and for once Sherlock just nodded.  
“Lead the way.” Sherlock followed him into a nice and smallish café, where John just placed him on a chair at a table by the window. Sherlock obediently sat and kept watching him. John chose cake for both of them and a sweet latte for Sherlock and a normal coffee for himself. Sherlock expectantly licked his lips when John placed the piece of cake in front of him. It was something with mocha, he could smell it.  
“Thank you, John.” Said one was surprised, a thank you from Sherlock was rather unusual. Most of all outside their home.  
“You are welcome. I believe you need it.” Sherlock almost inhaled it and looked very happy. John liked the sight.

***

Back at home Sherlock knew with absolute knowledge that he needed to do something very, very nice for John. He finally decided not to ask Anthea and arrange something, but instead he would go and talk to Greg. If needed, even inside a pub. He sent him a text.

_“Can we talk?”  
SH_

The answer was prompt.

_“You have just been here.”  
GL_

_“It’s not about a case.”  
SH_

The next reply took a bit longer.

_“I already spoke to Sally very seriously.”  
GL_

_“Forget her. It’s about John.”  
SH_

_“What did you do?”  
GL_

_“It’s about what I want to do. Please?”  
SH_

_“OK. My local at 6 pm today.”  
GL_

_“I feared so. See you then.”  
SH_

***

John was relaxing in their tub when Sherlock announced, he’d leave for a while. The door banged close and John sighed. Now he wouldn’t be disturbed anymore and he smiled. He splashed the water and thought about Sherlock. His flatmate. His detective. His best friend. He sighed again. Later he had a beautiful wank.

***

Sherlock entered the pub and hated it at once. It was loud, dirty and smelly. He tried to avoid touching anything, both guests and furniture, and luckily spied Greg sitting at a table in a corner. He strode over and sat down opposite of him. He looked up.  
“There you are. I am a bit worried; you know?” Sherlock eyed both the pub food, that was placed on the table, and the beer.  
“You don’t have to. It’s rather simple. It’s about John.” Greg raised a brow.  
“Now I am worried.” Sherlock didn’t understand. He was thirsty and again eyed Greg’s pint.  
“You have to get it yourself; you see? It’s a pub.” Sherlock raised a brow and only then noticed the lack of waiters. Without a word he got up and sauntered over to the bar. At once he caught the attention of the barkeeper and half leaned over the counter. He could be charming when needed. Very quickly he returned with two pints and more food.  
“Here, is this appropriate? I mean, since I wanted to meet you here.” Greg was fairly surprised but nodded.  
“Oh yes, it is very much appropriate. Thanks, Sherlock.” They sipped their beers and looked at each other. Greg just waited him out. Finally, Sherlock cleared his throat.  
“I would like to do something nice for John. He deserves it very much. I am often not easy to bear, I know that. And he takes such good care of me. I thought about it for quite some time and noticed stuff. Now I have decided to go on holiday with him.” Sherlock had more beer and expectantly looked at Greg.  
“This is a bloody surprise!” Greg stared at him.  
“A good one?” Sherlock dared asking. Greg nodded.  
“Very much so.” Sherlock looked a bit more relaxed.  
“I believe, he likes the sun and the warmth. I know, he doesn’t like stuff too posh, so I wouldn’t make him stay at Club Med. But I don’t know where we could go.” Sherlock shrugged helplessly.  
“And why do you think I could help you?” Greg asked a bit amused.  
“I don’t know. I know no one else I could ask.” The answer was a bit sad and Greg stopped teasing him.  
“You know, I think you are right. He would love going south, hanging around at a beautiful beach with warm water and cocktails and palm-trees. What about the Canary Islands? It’s a middle thing. You can go both posh and harmless. Try a normal hotel with loads of stars, but not a Club, and he will love it.”  
“You think?” Sherlock kept eating the pub food all the time without noticing. Greg was silently amused.  
“I think, he will love the fact, that you thought of him the most.” Now Sherlock blushed.  
“Would you help me finding a suitable enough place to stay?” Sherlock asked sipping his pint.  
“I sure will. Don’t worry!” He already rubbed his hands and they decided to meet again the day after tomorrow.  
Sherlock had started to like it in this place. The food was surprisingly tasty.

***

John had had a wonderful time in the bath and afterwards on the sofa nurturing his drink. But when Sherlock came home, he was rather irritated because he smelled of pub, beer and grease. Familiar. Irritating though, because it was Sherlock. John slowly sat up and looked at him.  
“Where have you been?” Sherlock shed his coat and poured another drink. He plonked on the sofa beside John.  
“I have been to your local meeting Greg. Businesswise.” He didn’t look at John.  
“You could have said so. Maybe I would have liked to come, too?” Sherlock looked at John now.  
“I needed to talk to Greg alone. I am sorry, John. The next time, OK?” John didn’t reply, but felt jealous. Why had he been left out? What was going on?  
He stared into his tumbler and sulked. But suddenly there was Sherlock’s deep voice close by.  
“Don’t copy my bad habits, John. There is no reason to act like you do now. Please trust me with this.” He carefully placed his palm on John’s neck.  
John almost dropped his tumbler. The heat coloured his face and neck and his blood rushed south. He didn’t dare look up.  
Sherlock now leaned his forehead against John’s.  
“Are you angry with me?” John swallowed. Sherlock smelled of dark beer and smoke.  
“No, I am just stupid. Forgive me?” The grip tightened for a second and John relaxed completely. Sherlock didn’t let go. Instead he leaned back against the sofa and pulled John along.  
John pulled up his legs and huddled against Sherlock who liked this. This was what he wanted, what he needed. John smelled fresh; he had taken a bath. And he had used Sherlock’s foam. He grinned and carefully sniffed his hair.  
“I used your shampoo. I am sorry.” Sherlock quietly laughed.  
“Don’t be. You smell nice.” John felt very, very warm.  
They kept sitting in companionable silence for a while and enjoyed each other’s presence. John felt very good and so did Sherlock. They didn’t even think about the weirdness of the situation.  
After one hour John looked up at Sherlock.  
“I want a drink. What about you?” Their eyes met when Sherlock turned his head.  
“Yes, I actually do. What about a wine?” John nodded.  
“Very good. I’ll get it.” Very reluctantly he got up and left the warmth of Sherlock’s body. Sherlock almost bodily felt the loss and he looked at his back when retrieving the bottle and opening it.  
John returned with glasses and the bottle, but he turned around right after he had left these on the coffee table. He filled some nosh and chocolate on a plate and brought this, too. Sherlock sat up. This was good.  
He patted the place by his side.  
“Please come back here, John.” John admittedly was surprised. Normally Sherlock wasn’t the cuddly type, but as he had said earlier, this was him, John. And he very much didn’t mind to be asked to come back to his side. He actually had hoped; he would be allowed.  
He took their filled glasses and sat back again. He handed over Sherlock’s wine and leaned against him. Sherlock’s finger brushed over his and sparks flew. Sherlock looked surprised and blood rushed south. John swallowed and quickly had some wine.  
“I know, I am a bother, but what could Greg help you with that I could not?” John asked out of the blue and didn’t look at Sherlock.  
“John, firstly you are not a bother. Never. And it is about something you are not supposed to know about, not yet anyway. I promise you, it’s nothing a bit not good or harmful in any way to anybody. Please trust me and wait.”  
“It’s just so weird. You have never left me out before. But I do trust you. Even though it keeps bothering me.” John sipped more wine and all of a sudden felt Sherlock’s warm and large palm on his neck again. Soothing fingertips rubbed over his skin and loads amounts of blood rushed south.  
“I know, I often leave you behind when running away chasing someone, but I would never leave you out. Never. You belong here with me. I’d be lost without you, John. Who would make me sleep or eat, if it weren’t for you?” John smiled and so did Sherlock.  
“And who would stitch you up?” Sherlock’s grip tightened again.  
“Exactly. I could go without the anger and the shouting though.” He only whispered the words and his lips almost brushed over John’s ear.  
John had to close his eyes. He needed all his willpower to hold back his erection. It would be too embarrassing. He clung to his wine and carefully sipped the dark red fluid with a shaking hand.  
“John? What’s wrong with you? Are you cold?” Sherlock suddenly asked. John cleared his throat.  
“No, not at all. It’s just, everything is, bloody hell!” He suddenly exclaimed.  
“John? Perhaps you need something more than a wine?” John laughed and slumped deeper into the sofa.  
“Yes, perhaps I do.” Their eyes met again and Sherlock stood to get it. John pulled a pillow over his lap, but somehow knew, that the master of deductions wouldn’t have any problems deducing his state.  
He shoved some chocolate into his mouth when Sherlock returned with a tumbler.  
“Here you are, John. Relax.” Sherlock sat down again, very close.  
“Thank you.” John knew it was late already. Normally he would have been sleeping by now. But he didn’t want to give this up. This being together with Sherlock was just too good. And perhaps he could stay at home tomorrow, call in and pretend being sick. It would be worth it.  
Sherlock by now knew he had to arrange everything quickly. John was too bothered by his secrets and he couldn’t have that. He didn’t want him to worry; he wanted him to be happy.  
“I am surprised you have eaten at the pub.” John suddenly said just to say something.  
“At first I hated it. The people, the crowd and the smell. But Greg provided food and beer and surprisingly it was good. I ate a lot.” Sherlock sounded proud.  
“You smell of grease and beer and smoke.” The grip tightened again.  
“Am I that smelly? I could have washed up! Why didn’t you tell me before? God, that’s embarrassing!”  
“Firstly, it’s not so bad. And please, don’t crush my neck?” John had ducked his head already. And suddenly he was pulled into Sherlock’s arms and held against his chest.  
“I am sorry. I am doing everything wrong …” John’s nose was pressed against Sherlock’s tight dress-shirt. The fabric was smooth and fine and just wonderful. John deeply inhaled.  
“You aren’t doing it wrong. There is no right or wrong. It was just surprising coming from you.”  
“Huh.” John laughed. It wasn’t a common Sherlockian comment.  
“I like this. Us sitting here.” John suddenly said swirling the amber fluid inside his tumbler.  
“Me, too. Very much so.” They didn’t look up but instead huddled closer and enjoyed the night.

***

Sherlock was the first to fall asleep on the sofa. John felt it, when he dropped his empty glass. He picked it up and placed it on the table. Then he poked him into the side.  
“Sherlock, wake up. You can’t sleep here. Your back will kill you. Get up and go to bed.” Sherlock twitched.  
“Come along, John.” He murmured and slowly moved to get up. John ignored that and stood, too. He watched him sway into his bedroom and listened to the sheets rustling. Only then he went through his bathroom-routine and walked upstairs.  
Naturally he would have liked to stay in Sherlock’s bed, but it wasn’t appropriate. They weren’t a couple. He wasn’t gay. He only liked Sherlock.  
He climbed into bed and pulled up his duvet sighing. It was almost early morning and he set his alarm to call in sick. Damn the human kind, he didn’t want to go to work tomorrow. Today.  
Suddenly his door was opened and Sherlock swayed inside. John could just stare and gaped at him. He climbed into his bed and made himself comfortable.  
“You didn’t come along. Now I am to share your tiny bed with you. It’s your entire fault.” He murmured the words into John’s skin and didn’t budge a bit.  
“Sherlock, what are you doing?” John moved up on his elbow and stared into the darkness.  
“I just told you, John. Pay attention!” He chided and John was able to hear him smile.  
“Very well.” John cleared his throat and moved a bit to make himself comfortable. It was rather narrow and he had no choice but to rest halfway on Sherlock’s body who hummed his approval. Soon enough he was pulled towards his chest.  
“I wanted this for so long …” He murmured.  
“Me, too.” John whispered into the darkness and waited for an answer. Instead he felt Sherlock’s body tense and nothing happened. But he didn’t go away.

***

The next day found Sherlock harassing Lestrade to find a proper place for their vacation. Next he arranged John’s absence with the surgery. And then he started to pack. So, when John came home after he did go to work and did not call in sick, he was rather irritated and stepped up behind Sherlock.  
“Mate, I have been told to have a nice vacation and a good time? What did you do?” Sherlock slowly stood and handed over a flyer which John automatically took.  
“I arranged a surprise for you. You are going on holiday.” Sherlock had started to pile up John’s few belongings.  
“Alone?” John asked shocked.  
“No, of course not. I am coming along, as always, John.” Sherlock smiled.  
“But why?” John still was a bit in shock. Sherlock stood and faced him to explain.  
“Some time ago I noticed you eyeing pictures in windows of travel-agencies. Palms and beach and cocktails. That’s why I needed Lestrade. I have no idea about such mundane things; but he does. I have booked our vacation and we will be going to the Canary Islands. Don’t worry, it won’t be Club Med but a nice hotel where you’ll like it. You can ride on the beach or surf or dive. Anything you want.”  
“But I can’t pay for such a trip …” John waved his arms around looking desperate.  
“I can. Now shut up.” Slowly John stepped up close and looked more closely at the chaotic display Sherlock had created.  
“Sherlock, have you ever been on vacation?” John asked.  
“No, and I have already told you.” Sherlock kept moving piles from left to right and back.  
“Let’s decide together what we will bring.” John carefully suggested and knelt down by his side. The remark made Sherlock finally look at him.  
“So, you are accepting my present then?” He carefully asked and John nodded.  
“Yes, I do.”


End file.
